


A Light in the Darkness

by HotaruGFC (JaclynGFC)



Category: Elena of Avalor (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Growing Up, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-07-27 23:16:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16229336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaclynGFC/pseuds/HotaruGFC
Summary: During her reign, Shuriki forbade the practice of magic. What is a child of magic to do when faced with such restrictions?A study of Avalor before Elena's return through the eyes of a young Mateo.Crossposted at FFN





	1. Chapter 1

The silence in the house now was deafening. Where once there had been a house full of love and laughter, there was now nothing but loss. Too much loss, too quickly. And the burden Mateo now bore was oppressive.

He lay in his small bed, trying to read the book he was to be tested on the next day. It was boring and it made him sleepy. It was also untrue. He knew, even if the others in his classes blindly believed what they had been taught. But he went along with it, kept his head down. Stating the truth would bring down trouble on him; trouble that he could not afford to have, that his family could not handle. Not now that his father had died, and his siblings had gone missing.

Gone missing, he thought bitterly as the lie echoed through his brain. 'Gone missing' was a euphemism because he could not say what he knew to be true. His family had been taken from him, from his mother. The sorceress Shuriki had destroyed his family slowly since she had come to power. First, his grandfather had left. He had never met him, but had grown up on stories of his rise to power as the royal wizard of Avalor. Then his sisters, they had recklessly joined a resistance movement that had been crushed in one of the many raids against such movements. Shuriki—I can't call such a thief Queen, he thought—had instilled a very strict policy against free speech, free association, the use of magic, and basically everything else that made Avalor what it was. His sisters both had had big hearts and chose to stand against the oppression of the people. They had only made things worse because they had used their gifts—the magic they had inherited from their grandfather, in their efforts. They had disappeared late one night after Shuriki's guards had raided their house.

His brother had been next. He also had played too loosely with the family gifts. And losing his eldest son had put Mateo's father into the grave. He was the only one left, now to care for his mother and grandmother. And it was a heavy burden for a ten year old to bear.

So he kept his head down and ignored the call of magic that pulled at him. He could feel it whisper on nights like this, when he was laying quietly and the house was too still for words. It felt like a current that ran deep at the bottom of a river that otherwise looked perfectly calm. It flowed steadily, at times it raged. He shook his head and tried to return his attention to the book of lies they had given him at school.

He was dozing once more as the gate to the house slammed closed with a bang and the front door creaked open a moment later. The moon was just rising through his window, sending its silvery light across his bed as the voices started downstairs.

"Rafa, think about what you are doing, child?" His grandmother's voice echoed clear and strong despite her age.

"I have, mother. And I want nothing to do with it. Father's legacy is meaningless in this world now. And I will not lose another child to it!" His mother replied, her voice rising in anger. The same argument had haunted him since his father's funeral.

It had always been the unspoken rule. Magic existed, and his family was flush with it. It was hidden from view, but never looked down upon within the family. His mother, Rafa, had chosen to ignore its call throughout her life. More out of fear than anything else, Mateo thought. She was the daughter of Alacazar; she had shared his gift and had passed it to her children, but she had chosen to lock that gift away within herself. His father had been surprisingly accepting of the talent that lay within his wife's bloodline, even as she wished she could vanquish it from herself. His father had never actively encouraged that any of his children learn magic, but he did not discourage them either once they had started. It was this quiet acceptance that had driven his heartbreak and ultimately his death.

Mateo knew that his own power had been sealed away by a wizard who lived outside of the kingdom when he was only an infant, but he could still feel that magic that existed in everything. He just could not connect to it, but it called to him, like a flame called to a moth.

"Mateo has a right to know and a right to learn if he wants, Rafa. You should not take that from him." His grandmother said. She had often told him, even before his brother had 'gone missing', that there was a great destiny that lay before him, that he would do great things. He did not believe her half the time. How could he? He was a scrawny kid who barely had any friends and was not all that good at things boys should be good at. She would scoff at him then, telling him to trust in fate and that he would know what to do when the time came to embrace his destiny. It was a fascinating bedtime story for a little kid, but the more he saw of the world and its darkness, the more he saw it as just a story.

The discussion had devolved into yelling now, as it often had in the three weeks since his father had passed. His mother and grandmother did not seem to be able to have a civil conversation even if their lives depended on it. There was no telling how long they would be at it, so Mateo knew that sleep was unlikely to come easily that night. He slipped out of his bed, letting the dull book of lies land on the floor with a thud. Part of him wanted to burn it for its lack of truth, but if he had learned one thing growing up as the grandson of a royal wizard, it was to always respect books, even if they do not seem worthy of it. He sighed as he picked up the small volume and placed it into his bag. He wished, not for the first time, that his grandfather was here, or that they at least knew what had happened to him. Everyone assumed he had died, but no one knew for certain. Still, there was a small marker in the graveyard for him. After all this time, he might as well be dead. But if he had come home, or had never left, perhaps Shuriki would not have been able to hold on to the kingdom as she had, he thought, and magic would not have been outlawed. And my family would not have fallen apart…

He slipped down the narrow stairs the led to his room quietly, not that he would have been heard over the yelling. The argument was the same as it had been for weeks. His mother wanted to destroy her father's things. There were still a few items scattered around the house that Mateo knew had belonged to his grandfather, but none of them seemed especially magical to him. His grandmother desperately wanted to protect them, to pass them on to him, Alacazar's last remaining heir. His mother would hear nothing of it. Eventually, they would reach a stalemate and would go to bed only to resume the heated discussion the following night.

Mateo sat listening to the arguments wondering what it would be like to tap into the magic source he felt day and night. Would it solve his problems with his classmates? Would it help him impress the other kids at school? Or would it only make things worse? Would he even be able to control it? Could he be even half the wizard his grandfather had been? What would his destiny be like, if his grandmother was indeed correct? What kind of life would he have if his mother eventually got her way? He sighed heavily as he leaned his floppy haired mess of a head against the wall.

Eventually the voices died down and his mother shuffled off to bed. She had been throwing herself into her work since his father had passed. He guessed it was to help her cope with the loss, well losses, a way to help her take her mind off of things. But it had done little for the family except make them all more irritable.

The slow shuffling of steps and glow of a lamp turning the corner made him sit up straight. His grandmother smiled in the orange light as she sat on the step below him.

"You heard that, did you Mateo?"

He only nodded.

"Well, do not worry, mijo. I will not let her destroy your birthright."

He nodded once more. Truthfully, he thought, I'm not sure whose side I would rather take.

"Get to bed." She commanded, patting his bony knee. "Tomorrow is a big day."

"Test day." He murmured. His grandmother scoffed.

"Tests on what? Those lies they teach you at school? Who needs that. I have other plans for the two of us." Her eyes twinkled in the lamp light. "But first you need to get some sleep. I bet one of those books you have to read will put you out in no time." She winked at him, knowingly. He could not help the grin that broke out on his face. He kissed the top of her head through thin gray wisps of hair before he crept back up the narrow stairs to his bedroom. He tried to sleep, to do as she had commanded. He had even finished the chapter he was supposed to be tested on in the morning. But sleep eluded him as he thought about his grandmother's pronouncement.

Tomorrow is a big day she had said. It aroused his curiosity, something he had in abundance, as it echoed through his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun streamed high through the window into his room as Mateo blinked his eyes open. The smell of sausage and cheese cooking wafted up to him, stirring him from his slumber. Stretching, he forced himself to sit up. The night had been long, and he had slept little. His mind had been racing until his body simply shut down. It was not the first time it had happened, nor would it be the last, he suspected. He looked outside with a start and hurried to his wardrobe. He was halfway dressed when he realized that his grandmother had asked him to stay home from school to help her. He slowed down, letting the scent of cooking food and his grandmother's singing wash over him and wake him fully.

"Good morning, Abuela." He said, as he hit the bottom of the stairs.

"Oh, Good morning, mijito. Did you sleep well?" She slid a plate across the wooden table as he sat on the bench. The table was long and smooth from all of the years of large families eating at it. Its surface was blackened with soot from the wood burning hearth that had served as the central gathering spot for generations of his ancestors, but that now was only lit in the coldest of months. The table felt empty now with just the two of them sitting at it.

Mateo and his grandmother ate in silence. Sounds of utensils scraping against the plates and the crackle of a fire were interspersed with the cries of the jaquins from the surrounding jungle. Mateo had always loved playing in the wild areas with his older siblings when he was just a toddler. They had not been too happy when he had managed to tag along, but they always did what they could to help him keep up. He had always been drawn to the plants surrounding the house, and had been found with fists full of poisonous berries as often as not. Even now, when he needed to get away, such as after his brother had 'gone missing', he found himself drawn into the jungle that sat beneath the Moon Cliff. He found himself staring out the small window to the courtyard then. He felt the draw of those wild places even now, just as he felt the whisper of magic ever just out of his reach. In his mind's eye, he could see the trees he and his brother had climbed, like the one that was so tall they were both too scared to climb it, but they did anyway. A smile passed over his lips as he remembered how he had dared to go higher and higher that day, despite his brother's warnings. How was I supposed to know that the branches would not support my weight? He thought, remembering the sound of the high branch cracking beneath his small feet and the feel of the leaves brushing against his skin as he fell. His brother's quick thinking had saved him, and had likely doomed himself as he called upon magic to stop Mateo's descent.

"What is troubling you, Mateo?" his grandmother asked as she sipped her coffee.

"Nothing, just memories." His voice sounded hollow, as hollow as his heart felt. He closed his eyes against the tears that had started to form, willing them away unsuccessfully as he felt one and then another slid down his cheek. He scrubbed them away with a clenched fist, angry at his inability to control his emotions. His grandmother smiled sympathetically at him.

"Oh my boy." She laid a withered hand against his face. "The tears are good. They let you know how much you still love them. Do not be ashamed of the tears. Be ashamed when they no longer come."

Her words cut through him like a knife, dampening the intensity of the pain he had been feeling. Her arms were like a warm blanket around him, covering him with love and warmth. She stroked his hair and soothed his spirit.

"It is the memories we hold that keep our loved ones with us, Mateo. Do not lose them. Do you understand?"

He nodded against her shoulder.

"Good. Now, let's get to work." She stood from where she had sat next to him and pat him on the shoulder.

"What are we doing, Abuela?"

"I need your help moving your grandfather's things. You mother wants to burn it all, but she will regret it if she does. But we do not need to keep it where it confronts her every day."

It did not take long, as his grandmother had already spent much of her morning packaging up the last of Alacazar's things into sealed boxes. Mateo simply had to carry them down to the depths of the basement—to the lower than lowest official floor of the house. It had surprised him that the room existed when he had stumbled upon it with his brother. The room was filled with crates upon crates, though Mateo could make out a few crates that had been pried open and their contents released. Some simple sat empty, while others were filled with books or other tools of the magical trade. He wanted to explore the open boxes, but each time he found himself drawn to one book or another, his grandmother called him away to help her further. He felt drawn to this place now, just as he had felt drawn to the jungle and the plants that lurked there. It was the undercurrent of magic that surrounded him that drew him in, he knew, and the books and tools tucked away in the boxes were flush with it.

"Mateo! Come back upstairs!" his grandmother's voice was distant and echoed along the stone stairway.

"I'm coming, Abuela." He called back, setting one of the tipped over boxes back upright and placing the books that had fallen out back into it. He hurried back up the stairs, his too big feet slapping loudly in the echoing chamber.

His grandmother had made them both some lunch and was placing the soup and bread on the table as he sat down. The front door creaked open as his mother stepped inside.

"Mateo? What are you doing home?"

"Uh… I, uh…" he feigned a cough. "I feel sick?"

His mother looked at him skeptically, as if she did not believe him. She had ever right to be suspicious, Mateo thought. I never was an good with lying. To make matters worse, pretending to be sick had already earned him discipline issues at school. He coughed again.

"I asked him to stay home with me, Rafa. Do not give him a difficult time."

"Mother, he needs to go to school."

"He is too smart for their lies, and you know it."

Mateo looked from his mother to his grandmother as they started arguing again. He quickly fixed his mother a bowl of soup and sliced some bread for her. Seeing the food, Rafa sat and began eating.

"Do not think that we are finished with this discussion, Mother." She said between mouthfuls of food. Mateo watched his mother eat sadly. She looked tired and worn. Her long hours at her job had taken a toll on her, making her look much older than her years. The constant grief did not help matters any either. A hush had fallen on the table as she ate. Mateo's grandmother gestured to him. As she moved to the foot of the stairs, he followed until she placed a small worn book into his hands.

"This is the only thing I have not packed away. Your grandfather would have wanted you to have it now that you are older." She whispered.

"What is it?" he asked, matching her conspiratorial tone.

"It is one of his journals from his time as royal wizard. Go, mijo. Learn more about him. Then we can discuss who you are meant to be."

Mateo's young eyes lit up as he gingerly stroked the cover of the small book. Finally, he thought, a link to his life in his own words, not through stories of him. He hurried up the stairs to his room and began reading voraciously.

"Where's Mateo?" he heard his mother ask from the kitchen below.

"He said he had to study." His grandmother replied, conveniently leaving of what he was studying.


	3. Ch 3

Mateo thought that his grandfather's journal was an interesting look into the life of a royal wizard, but he found that he preferred the stories told by his mother. He did not know what he had been expecting from the journal, but the more he read of it, the more he thought that the life of a royal wizard was fairly dull indeed. Where are the spells? He thought, or the tales of daring do? The notebook had no recounting of his conflicts with Fiero or anything about the appearance of Shuriki. There were some interesting notes and sketches of magical creatures, which he thought were pretty cool. But overall, he found himself somewhat disappointed.

"Mateo!" His mother called up the stairs. "Dinner!"

His mother and grandmother were already seated when he turned the corner.

"Why the glum look, mijito?" his grandmother asked.

"I'm not glum." He responded, taking his seat on the long wooden bench.

"Oh, my thoughtful child." His mother squeezed his hand before serving him some paella. "What has you troubled?"

"It's… school, is all." He lied, looking down into his food. He knew that if he looked at her, she would see right through him. Truthfully, his mind was on what he had read in his grandfather's journal. Of course, he could not tell his mother that. She would probably forbid me from reading it, he thought, if she knew I had it. He also knew that if he just left it at that, his mother would begin interrogating him. "The history test I was supposed to have today, what they are teaching us—it's filled will lies about grandfather. You have always told me to not lie, and to do well in school. But how can I do both when what they are teaching us are lies?"

The two woman looked at each other before looking back to the young boy. Rafa placed a gentle hand on her son's shoulder.

"I know it seems contradictory—like I'm telling you to different things, but what I am going to tell you now is to protect you. For the tests, you should always, always give the teachers what they want, even though what they are teaching are lies. You know the truth, Mateo. That's all that matters. If the teachers want to feed you lies, spit them back to them on the tests, but always remember the truth. Do you understand?" She made him look into her eyes. "Do you understand?"

"I… I think so." He stammered nervously. His mother's eyes were hard and serious; the look there frightened him.

"Good."

"But the other kids…"

"What about the other kids?" His grandmother asked from across the table.

"They tease me about being his grandson." His cheeks turned red with anger. It was not a lie that he was teased, but he had never told them about it before. He had not wanted to worry his mother. Besides, it was just one of many things he had been bullied about at school.

His mother embraced him then. She too had felt the sting of being harassed by other because of her father.

"Your grandfather was a hero, Mateo. Never forget that." She whispered to him.

"Can you tell me a story about him, Ma-mi? Maybe the one about how he became the royal wizard?" he asked, his face buried into her chest. He tried to be strong and ignore the comments by the other students, but he could not keep back the sting of tears as his mother held him.

"Are you sure? You've heard it so many times."

"Please?"

"After dinner, then." She smoothed his floppy hair back away from his face and kissed his forehead before returning to her seat.

They finished their dinner in silence. Mateo's thoughts flipped between the journal and what he had finally admitted to his mother. He wanted to believe what his mother said about his grandfather, but it was difficult when she so often wanted nothing to do with keeping his memory alive. After dinner, Mateo helped his mother clean the table and kitchen before they settled down with some spicy hot cocoa. They sat a moment in silence sipping the warm drink as Mateo's grandmother picked up her knitting on the other side of the room.

"So, you want to know the story of the great Alacazar?" His mother asked, her voice starting to take on theatrical tones. Mateo's eyes lit up as he perched himself on the edge of his seat, gripping the warm mug tightly between his hands.

"Ever since he was a young boy, Alacazar had been fascinated by magic. He found every book he could on the matter and began studying it as soon as he could read. As he grew older and more skilled, he was taken as an apprentice by Mortivo, the royal wizard of Avalor. Mortivo was a famous wizard who was descended from a long line of Maruvian wizards, but as most famous wizards do, Mortivo had taken many apprentices over the years. Alacazar was simply the most recent in a long line of students. Another student, Fiero, also served Mortivo, though his official apprenticeship had recently ended. Fiero helped Mortivo with his duties as royal wizard, and as the elder of the two students, assumed he would be chosen to follow his master." Rafa had begun gesticulating to help accentuate the story as she spoke. Mateo seemed to bounce on the edge of his seat in anticipation.

"Alacazar was a cleaver young man, smart, but also kind. He was a quick learner and surprised Mortivo with how easily he mastered his studies. While he never pushed himself towards greatness, he always looked to the future and how he could become better than he was. He knew that he had a destiny that would take him far, but he never let his desire to grow lead him down the path of ambition. He found it far more satisfying to learn and improve the world around him one day at a time."

"And that's why he was surprised to be called before the king." Mateo interrupted. His mother placed her hand on her hip.

"Am I telling this story, or are you?" She asked with a smile. His grandmother laughed as her knitting needles clacked rhythmically across the room.

"Sorry, Ma-mi."

"Oh, it's alright, mijo." She said, ruffling his unruly hair before launching back into the story.

"So, Alacazar had been summoned by the king who wanted to see a demonstration of his skill. But the simple demonstration soon turned out to be much more. Alacazar walked into the throne room, only to be greeted by the entirety of the court—including his master and Fiero. As he entered, Alacazar noticed that Fiero was finishing a series of spells. He wondered if Fiero had also been asked to demonstrate his skills for the king. As he approached, Mortivo stepped forward, next to his former student. As Alacazar also reached his master's side, he bowed deeply to the royal family who were seated on the dais."

"Mortivo stepped forward and announced his younger apprentice to the king. 'Your Majesty, may I present my newest apprentice, Alacazar.' The king eyed the apprentice curiously. 'Mortivo,' the king said, a bemused smile on his face, 'I thought you said that Fiero would be your last student. Can you not resist passing on your knowledge?' Mortivo chuckled. 'Not when faced with a student so talented, Your Grace.' Mortivo replied."

"Alacazar looked around the room; it seemed as if time had slowed. He could hear the king's laughter and Fiero grunting in disapproval. He could hear the murmurs of the crowd around him and sense the piercing gaze of someone staring at him. Turning his head, he met her eyes and felt as if he had been struck by lightning. Only the insistent tone on his master's voice was able to draw his attention from the young woman's gaze. He felt himself blush as he apologized to the kind and began his demonstration."

"Finally!" Mateo cried impatiently. His grandmother laughed above the clicking of her needles.

"Your sisters always loved that part." She added from across the room, chuckling still.

"It was always my favorite part too, mother." Rafa said before continuing the story.

"Alacazar summoned jaquins made of pure light and made the flowers within the throne room glow as if they were tiny suns. He created many wonders that dazzled the crowd, making them gasp in delight and awe. When he felt he had done enough, he lowered his wand and bowed to the king."

"How many jaquins?" Mateo asked, his excitement palpable.

"Huh?" His mother said. "Oh, I don't know."

"Three." His grandmother replied from the corner with a smile. "There were three, and they were beautiful."

"Anyway, the king then asked Alacazar if he knew why he had been summoned. Not waiting for him to respond, the king explained. 'Mortivo had decided to retire. I am looking for the wizard who might replace him.' Alacazar looked over at Fiero, certain that the king would choose his elder and the more experienced wizard. 'Mortivo has given his support for both of his apprentices, and both of you have great skill with magic. For that alone, either of you would make an excellent replacement. The advanced nature of your skills is a testament to your master's training. However, because you are both so highly skilled, it had made this decision a difficult one.' The king looked from Alacazar to Fiero and back. He stood, pacing along the front of the dais. He stroked his beard in though." Rafa pantomimed as she spoke.

"Alacazar felt his master's hand on his shoulder and saw the elderly wizard beaming with pride for his students' achievements. Glancing to his master's other side, he saw Fiero seething with anger which radiated from him like heat from a stove. Despite the palpable anger, Alacazar could once again feel the penetrating gaze of the young lady who had captivated him earlier. He glanced back at her, the sides of his mouth tugging up in a smile, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, but her face was hidden behind a fan—all except her piercing almost green eyes."

Mateo rolled his nearly green eyes at the comment. He knew the story well enough to know that his grandparents met on the day described. After all, he had inherited his grandmother's eyes which seemed one day to be green as grass and the next to be a brown as mud, and occasionally to be as gray as a storm cloud. Rafa continued.

"The king said, 'I cannot make this decision today. Both candidates are too good. Mortivo, I will have to test them further. I need to know more about who they are—not just the magical skills they possess.' The crowd listened in hushed anticipation. Mortivo looked at his students, concerned for their ability to pass this new test of character. 'Very well, Your Grace. When shall this additional test occur?' He asked. The king sat once again in this throne. 'I will let you know as soon as I have devised it.' He replied, waving them off."

"Alacazar met up with his master after the audience. 'Master, why am I even being considered as royal wizard? Fiero has so much more experience than I…' he started, but Mortivo cut him off. 'Alacazar, you have more potential than you realize, and more skill than you know. I have taught you all that I can. It will be up to you now to make your own way. That path may be one that follows my own, or your destiny may follow another. But one thing is true, my student. You are destined for great things.' Alacazar beamed with pride, but was still a little disconcerted. 'But Master…' Mortivo cut him off once more. 'I suggest that you take your time, study, relax. Let yourself feel proud of your accomplishments.'"

"Three days later, the king summoned them all back for an audience. This time, however, there was far less pomp involved in the meeting. Alacazar felt a pang of disappointment when he saw the near empty throne room. He had hoped to see her in the crowd again. She had disappeared before he could speak to her the other day."

"Ugh." Mateo groaned. His grandmother laughed.

"Perhaps one day, mijo, you will not feel so disgusted by these parts of the story." She said.

"Mother…" Rafa sighed, frustrated. She was not yet ready to think of her young son as remotely interested in romance.

"Excuse me, Rafa. Please continue." The elderly woman said, amusement still coloring her voice.

"The king had a task for the both of them. He ordered them to search the city for an old Maruvian relic—the eye of Madria. He said that the relic had recently appeared in the city and that he wanted it for his treasury. He wanted it in his possession by sundown. With their assignment given, both wizards were off, racing for their goal. Fiero sneered at Alacazar, saying 'I will never let you win, you incompetent fool' before he hurried out of the palace to begin his search. But Alacazar had a different plan. Having never heard of the Eye of Madria, he wondered what it was or what it could do, because surely if it was a magical Maruvian object, then it would do something. So he found himself drawn to the library to discover what he could about the article of his search. He searched through every book he could think of and a few that he would have never thought of in a million years, but he could find nothing on the Eye. His master found him frantically searching through the dusty tomes and asked what he was doing. 'I'm researching the Eye, Master, but I can find nothing about it in any of the books.' His frustration was growing as he slammed one of the books shut. Mortivo smiled gently at him. 'There are some things that get left out of books, Alacazar,' he said. 'Now go, you are losing daylight.' Alacazar started to protest, but considered his words carefully before nodding and leaving the library. Stepping out through the gate of the palace, he set himself on a path to the city below. Fiero had a head start, and Alacazar knew that he had no time to lose."

Just then the clock in the room chimed the hour. It had grown late. Mateo's eyes were dogged by dark circles even as they were filled with excitement. The clacking of his grandmother's knitting needles had stopped and she was now snoring softly in the corner. His mother looked at the clock.

"Ay-ah. It's so late, Mateo. You should get to bed." She said.

"Aw, after the story?" he asked, his voice belying his tiredness. His mother took his hand and pulled him up to her. She hugged him close.

"Tomorrow. I promise. Now to bed with you." She pushed him gently toward the stairs that led to his room before turning to lay a blanket over her mother. Mateo watched her a moment from the foot of the stairs as she stretched and collected the cups from earlier.

"Good night, Ma-mi." He called to her as he hurried up the wooden steps. He hoped it would indeed be a good night. So few nights had been good since his father's funeral.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sleepless night when Mateo dreams of the bad things which had happened.

The night was dark and quiet. The only sound was the hoof beats of horses coming up the road. A flare of light across the room roused Mateo from his fitful sleep. He sat up on his elbows as the light seemed to float around the room. When his eyes adjusted, he saw his brother stuffing items in a bag.

"Enrique?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Shh. Mateo, go back to sleep." His older brother hissed in the darkness.

Mateo sat up fully, because, honestly, who ever goes back to sleep when told to by someone scurrying around in the dark?

"What's going on?" he asked as he watched his brother bundling up some of his worldly possessions.

"Nothing. Just… go back to sleep."

A bang on the gate shattered the silence of the night.

"I have to go." The older boy whispered, perching on the edge of Mateo's bed. He pulled Mateo to him and squeezed him tightly. "I love you, Mateo." He let go and was racing down the stairs before Mateo could respond. Voices grew loud outside in the courtyard. He could hear his father yelling. Mateo threw the covers off and followed his brother down the stairs only to be greeted by his mother trying to hustle him back to bed.

"Mateo. Please, you don't need to see this, mijo." His mother said, her voice harsh with fear. He ducked beneath her arm and darted out the open door. His father stood between him and a squad of royal guards. The guards looked fierce in the moonlight with dark shadows dancing on their snarling faces. Their blades glistened in the silver glow of the full moon. Mateo's eyes grew wide and he froze at the sight.

"Where is he, Alfonso? The Queen has order him arrested for crimes against the state." The leader of the guards said.

"I don't know what you are talking about. Enrique has done nothing wrong."

"Alfonso, it will be far better for you." The guard looked at Mateo standing in the doorway. "And your family, if you cooperate."

Mateo backed away from the scene, and felt his mother's arms wrap around him protectively.

"Come back inside, Mateo." She pulled at him. Just then, one of the guards spotted movement through the shadows of the courtyard.

"Sir!" he chased after the moving shadow.

"Hey!" Mateo's brother cried as the guard grabbed him and pulled him into the light of their lanterns. Mateo watched his father rush at the lead guard, only to be batted away like an insect by the silvery blade. He fell to the ground with thud as Mateo's mother screamed and squeezed more tightly to him before releasing him and running to his father's side. Mateo watched, wide-eyed, as the guards restrained his brother as he struggled, locking chains around his wrists and feet before pulling him bodily from the courtyard. Hot tears of rage rolled down his cheeks as a wrinkled hand came to rest on his shoulder. The lanterns and candle flames flared and danced wildly as Mateo called out.

"Enrique!"

The hand on his shoulder held him back with surprising strength and a coolness that doused his fire of his rage.

"You can do nothing for him right now, mijito." His grandmother's voice said firmly but gently. "See to your father." She redirected him. Mateo looked to where his mother and father sat. He saw that his father was sitting, but still seemed pained. He rushed over.

"It's nothing, Rafa. Just a scratch, really." His father's voice was shaken and weak, but he tried to be reassuring.

"Like hell it's nothing." She chided as she tried to get him standing. "I need to have a look, and I will call the physician if I think you need one." She grunted as she carried the weight of him back to the house. He pressed his hand tightly to his side. As they passed the threshold, Mateo noticed that his fingers were slick with blood.

"Abuela?" he asked, uncertain of even what he wanted to do or say. He turned to his grandmother, her eyes green and cloudy, her face grim. She seemed to know something, but he could not tell what. She shook her head as he looked at her expectantly. She gestured for him to come back inside with her.

Rafa had pushed the large table in the kitchen clear from the remnants of the small party they had had earlier to celebrate his birthday. He had just turned ten. Enrique had given him a tambourine. It had red swirls on its white head and silver jingles around the shell. It was the most beautiful instrument he had ever seen. Now it sat on a small chair and the wrappings fluttered to the floor as Rafa laid Alfonso on the table. Mateo watched from the doorway as the once festive room turned into a room of nightmares. Rafa called for a lamp as she tried to staunch the flow of blood from her husband's side, but it was too much. The blood gushed like a river and filled the room. Mateo ran up the stairs to his room.

He woke in a sweat, panting as he looked around the dark, empty room disoriented. It took him a moment to realize that he had been dreaming. His grandmother called them memory dreams, when dreams and memories get mixed together as his had become. They always started out so real, so true to events, but then turned surreal. It was usually then that he woke up. Slowly, his breathing came back under control and he could feel the storm within his soul quiet.

They are both gone, he thought. There is nothing you can do to change that. The thought made him shiver despite the warmth of the night air. He pulled his blanket tightly around his shoulders and stared out at the trees, trying to remember.

The soldiers had come for his brother, true. They had also taken him that night. But his father did not get hurt as badly as he did in Mateo's dreams. While his father did try to defend and protect his family, the cut he received that night had not been immediately fatal. It had seemed to be only a small scratch. It was infection that took his father three weeks ago. Infection and heartache.

Mateo wondered—not for the first time—if his sisters had been taken in a similar way. They had disappeared earlier, but he had not been there when they were taken. The eldest, Maria, had disappeared a year and a half earlier, and Rosita, the second born, vanished three months later. Mateo did not know the details, and had only heard his family discussing it in hushed whispers. They had always changed the subject when he walked into the room. He wished that he knew what had happened to them.

Hot tears rolled down his cheeks as he closed his eyes.

I thought I would be done with crying by now, he thought as he wiped them away with the corner of his blanket.

The night was dark, blinding as he tried to make his way to the stairs. His blanket trailed behind him like a cape as he made his way to the kitchen for a glass of water. He wanted something warmer, some more hot cocoa or some tea, but he did not dare wake his mother or grandmother, not again. Plus, he needed to get some sleep. His mother's command that he go to school weighed heavily upon him. Just the thought of sitting through class, of being around others exhausted him. Just the mere thought of others was draining. He was not at all certain how he would handle the teasing. He had thought it might stop for a while, what with his father's death, but no. If anything, it only caused the most cruel to harass him more. The teachers were overly sympathetic, but the students were terrors. Needless to say, it made his disdain for school even greater.

He sat on the settee where his mother had been telling him stories only a few hours earlier. He shook so much that the cup of water he held sloshed. He put the cup down to keep from spilling it and curled up on the seat into as small of a ball as he could; he pulled the blanket over his head. It blocked out what little sound and light entered the room, but it could not block out the pain. The rawness of his heart tore at him and erupted in sobs that punctuated the night. He wanted to scream, but dared not to wake his mother.

She was having a difficult time herself, he thought. She doesn't need me adding to it.

He buried his face into a pillow and let the rage, the sorrow, the self-pity, the emptiness out in a muffled yell that felt so good to his spirit that he thought for a moment it would be over. But too quickly the moment had passed and the emptiness crept up on him again. Through the emptiness, he could feel it deep with in, his touch of magic, the one he had always known he had, but to which he had never been able to connect. He imagined it like a golden thread or a winding river of gold way in the distance. It seemed to flow like a river most of the time, but it was so far out of reach that it might as well be a tiny thread floating on the breeze. In the darkness of the night and the emptiness of the spirit, he felt it call to him. He wanted to reach out, to touch it, to grab hold of it and to get swept up in its currents. It was as clear as day to him. It seemed so close. But no matter how close he got, it was always just out of reach. He uttered a curse—one his mother would have been appalled to hear him say.

The frustration he felt when trying to connect to his magic coupled with his grief made him sob once more. Once he started, he found that he could not stop. Eventually, he fell asleep from exhaustion.

The next day, Rafa found her son, eyes rimmed in red and cheeks splotchy from tears, laying on the settee. She started to shake him awake, but thought better of it. It seemed as if he had had a difficult night. She brushed a lock of hair from his temple and pulled the blanket securely around him. School can wait, she thought as she kissed his temple and made her way to work.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mateo oversleeps, misses school, and spends the day with his grandmother where something strange happens.

Mateo woke in a panic around noon. His grandmother was preparing food in the kitchen for dinner as he stumbled into the room.

"Mateo? Are you finally awake?" she called from the stove where she was stirring a large pot.

"I need to get to school." He said, grabbing a piece of fruit from the table before heading to the stairs. "Why didn't anyone wake me up?"

"I tried, but you wouldn't stir. And why were you not in bed?"

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

"I… I had a bad dream is all." He took a few steps before his grandmother's voice stopped him.

"Mateo. School can wait. Come; sit with me."

He sighed as he turned in the stairwell. He did not want to talk about his dream with his grandmother and he knew that was exactly what she would ask him about. She was uncanny that way. She always seemed to know what was going on no matter what he might do to hide it. He had asked her about it before, wondering if she also knew magic, but he never got a straight answer. She simply said that she would get flashes from time to time—bits of the future and bits of the past. She looked at him firmly as he returned sheepishly to the kitchen and sat at the long wooden table.

He sat uneasily as she fixed him some tea. She placed a cup of the warm liquid in front of him before sitting across from him. Her eyes looked more brown than green as she gazed at him over her own cup.

"So. Tell me about this dream."

"It's… It's nothing, Abuela." He wrapped his hands around the warm cup.

"It was about what happened, wasn't it?" she asked, presciently. Mateo nodded before taking a sip of the tea. He really did not like tea, but the warmth was soothing.

"You've heard the saying 'Time heals all wounds', Mateo?" He nodded again. "Well, it's bunk. Time will never erase the pain and grief you feel, not completely. It's been… thirty? Thirty-five years since your grandfather left your mother and me, and I still miss him every day. I suspect that I will keep missing him until the day I die. You will always miss Enrique and your father. Your sisters too. But they are a part of you as long as you keep their memory. Do you understand, mijo?"

Mateo nodded. He understood the words, but it was more difficult to accept them in his heart.

"Time cannot ever erase the past, Mateo, nor should we want it to. But with Time, it does become easier to greet each day." She placed a hand over his. "Would you like to go to the graveyard to visit with me?"

He shook his head. He had not wanted to go to the graveyard for his father's funeral, and he could not bring himself to join her on such a visit. Being there made reality far too real for him when he would rather shut himself away from it.

"Oh, come on. The fresh air will do you good."

"If it's the fresh air I need, I think I would rather go to school." He murmured, hoping she would not hear.

"Pfft, school is almost over anyway. Go, get dressed, and we will take a walk."

Like an obedient grandson, he did as he was told, even though she was bound to take him through the graveyard. He was not sure why it unsettled him so, but he's aversion had only grown since his father's funeral. It had only been a few weeks ago, but even the thought of going made him feel sick. Perhaps I am asking too much of myself. Maybe Abuela is right and I should give myself more time.

The graveyard was not as dismal as he had thought it would be. Granted, the whitewashed tombs and elaborate mausoleums were creepy and he was still mildly uncomfortable there, but he could also see the appeal that this place had for his grandmother. He watched her as she spoke to the tomb that enshrined his father and memorialized his grandfather. One day, he knew, that she would join them there. His mother and himself, too, would likely find final rest within the walls of white stucco; it was a family tomb, after all. Still, his grandfather had been presumed dead, and there was never a real funeral for him. The memorial was held before Mateo was born, but it seemed odd that his memory had been enshrined here, despite the rule of Shuriki, while his siblings still sat in limbo. The thought made Mateo uneasy as it brought up memories of his sister's disappearances from a year ago. And the loss of his brother was still fresh and excruciating.

As his grandmother talked to the dead, Mateo found himself wandering and wondering. As he passed through the rows of tombs, he wondered if any other grandmothers came to speak to their lost loved ones, and how many of them had lost children and grandchildren to the usurper. He noticed that some of the graves had fresh flowers adorning them, while others were covered in dried husks, and still, others were not adorned at all. At some, dead leaves collected at their bases, while others gleamed in the sunlight as if they had just been built. Some had no names carved into the marble stone covers, while others were so old that some of the names had been worn away from the loving touch of those left behind.

He wondered about all of those people, how they lived and how they died. He wondered what they were like, and if they would have stood against Shuriki if they had still been alive. As he continued with his introspection, he felt a shadow cross his path. Looking up, he stared into the eyes of an intricate sculpture of a jaquin guarding the corner of a large ornate tomb. The details carved into the marble were beautiful and meticulous, illustrating great wealth and prestige. Despite its age, the structure was impeccably kept and showed no signs of disrepair or disuse, despite the last name had been engraved nearly thirty-five years prior. He gingerly walked up the steps to read the names more clearly. Doing so was like reading a history book as he scanned name after name of the most recent ruling dynasty, a group that stretched back centuries, a group that ended with his grandfather's failure.

"I'm sorry." He whispered to the stone, drawing his fingers over the names of the most recently fallen—Queen Lucia, King Raul, and Princess Elena. As his fingers touched the name of the princess, the stone grew warm to the touch and sent a shock through him. In his mother's stories, Elena had not died but had been trapped inside an amulet of some sort. He had no idea what the amulet actually looked like as he mother had never seen it, but he knew it was a necklace. At least, his grandmother had said so. But when he touched her name, he saw an ornate chain from which a large violet stone dangled. He had never seen the necklace before, but he knew he had never seen a stone as violet as the pendant before. It was not an amethyst or sugilite. It seemed like a ruby, only purple.

The stone continued to warm until it was too hot for him to touch. He pulled his fingers back in shock and as he did so, the vision ended. But he knew then with certainty that his mother's stories about the amulet were true and that whoever made the decision to memorialize Princess Elena had done so either because they thought she was dead, or they wished for others to think she was. His heart was beating fast as he hurried down the steps, but his eyes were transfixed by the tomb. On his way down, he missed a step and fell to the stone path that led to the tomb. He tried to catch himself, but his hands slipped and he jarred his elbow on the hard surface. He lay, sprawled, for a long time, his eyes closed, hoping against hope that no one had been witness to his embarrassment. When he tried to sit up, his head swam and he retched. He took his time standing and walking back to find his grandmother still sitting at their family tomb, talking with their ancestors about whatever old people talk about with dead people. He sat quietly next to her, once again wishing that he had gone to school as he cradled his elbow against him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mateo finds out a little more about his family and his own past.

Later that evening, Mateo sat at the large table the filled the hearth space, nursing his elbow and trying to read his grandfather's journal. His head was swimming as the words danced in front of him, their looping motion making him dizzy. Through the haze of his mind, the vision of the amulet came to him again, along with indistinct whispers. It seemed like a girl's voice calling to him, but over a distance so great that he could not make out the words.

He tried to focus back on the book in front of him. The journal was filled with his grandfather's stories about the royal family, he knew, but he could not make the words out for himself, not today, not entirely. A few jumped out at him and into crystal clear focus—Elena, amulet, and protection. He closed the book in frustration.

"What's wrong, mijo?" His grandmother asked from her position in front of the flickering fire.

"Abuela, I need to learn magic." He blurted out. His grandmother stopped her stirring and waddled slowly to him.

"I know, Mateo. But not now. In time, it will come to you, but now…" She trailed off.

"But now what, Abuela? I can feel it, simmering, but out of reach. It's… I need to."

"When you were just a baby, Mateo, we all knew you had the gift. So like your grandfather." She smiled as she touched his cheek. "Even then, the magic called to you. Strongly. Your mother and father thought it best to protect you in any way they could. So they took you to a wizard in Cordoba, who sealed you from the magic until you were old enough."

He felt a flare of anger spike within him.

"How could they do that? They left my sisters and brother free to learn. How could they cut me off? Did they even know that I would still be able to feel it, hear it whispering to me?"

"Even I thought it was for the best. Your sisters' explorations with magic were already bringing too much attention to the family, and you were… so much more powerful than them, even as an infant." She sat next to him and tried to take his hand, but he pulled it way quickly. She sighed before continuing softly.

"It was as if the Maruvian bloodline had been reborn within you, Mateo. I knew when I first saw you that you were destined for greatness. Your mother did not want to believe it, but then, after your grandfather left, she denounced magic. Imagine my surprise when she married your father, also a descendant of the ancient Maruvians. Though much of their knowledge had been lost, their blood flowing through your veins connects you to the magic they made in compelling ways. You will see. The blocks will fade with time, Mateo, and when they do, you know where to go."

"The basement?"

"The basement. There is a reason I could not let your mother do as she wished with your grandfather's things." A twinkle flashed in her eye as she smiled at him. Mateo rubbed his elbow. It still throbbed after his fall at the cemetery.

"Abuela, something happened today. At the graveyard." He admitted sheepishly.

"When you fell?" she asked. He looked at her in shock. He had not mentioned the fall to her, or what caused it. "Mateo, you've been nursing your arm since you came back to sit with me." She stated. He felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. She was far more observant than he had given her credit.

"Yeah. I… I saw something; a necklace. I… I think it was Princess Elena's amulet."

His grandmother looked at him thoughtfully for a long moment.

"It seems the wards may be fading faster than we thought, or that your destiny is trying to find you."

"But, Abuela, what is my destiny?"

His grandmother was just about to answer when she was cut off by the opening of the door to the house.

"Mama, Mateo? I'm home." His mother called.

"Another time, mijo." His grandmother whispered before greeting her daughter.

The dizziness continued through dinner, as did the yearning Mateo felt for the magical energy that was just out of reach. He wanted to talk more with his grandmother, but he could find no opportunity. The air in the room was uneasy, filled with a tense silence, like a guitar string that had been tightened too much. Rafa prattled on about her day in an unconscious effort to ease the tension they all felt. Mateo just ate, tuning everything else out and trying to keep his dinner down. The constant spinning of his head seemed to have spread to the rest of him.

"I… I don't feel well." He blurted out as he stood, swaying. "May I be excused?"

For the first time since she got home, Rafa really looked at her son. He was wan, and he squinted his eyes against the dim light as if it were the noonday sun. He stood shakily, one arm tucked against his side, while the other supported his weight on the table.

"Mateo? What's wrong?"

"Just an upset stomach, Mami." His voice sounded weak, even to his own ears. He tried to smile, but it, too, was weak.

"He fell at the graveyard today." His grandmother said. Mateo sighed.

"I must have hit my head harder than I thought."

His mother helped him to the settee and covered him with a blanket as he laid down. She crouched next to him.

"Oh, my sweet boy." She brushed the long hair from his forehead. "Why did you not tell me sooner?" She took his arm without waiting for him to answer and began examining the bruising that was now plainly evident.

"I didn't think it was this bad, Mami. I'm sorry." Mateo could feel his eyes growing heavy. The whispering started again as his lids drifted shut.

"Mateo? Mateo!" His mother called urgently, as if from a distance, through the whispers in his mind. When he opened his eyes, she was looking over him still, worry etched on her face. "You must not fall asleep. Here, I will finish the story from last night."

He nodded.

"Ok."

"Hmm. Where were we?" Rafa asked herself as she paced the small room. Movement on the other side of the room let Mateo know that his grandmother had joined them for the story.

"Alakazar was just about to begin his search in the city." The elderly woman reminded her as she settled into her chair.

"Right, thank you, Mother," Rafa said before turning back to Mateo.

"Alakazar hurried from the palace and into the city, but he was still uneasy. He still had no idea what the Eyes of Madria were. He had so many questions, and the books he had searched through had done nothing to answer them. He stopped in the middle of the road as a sudden realization dawned upon him. There was one source to which he could turn—his spirit animal.

'Well,' he said, 'If there were ever a time when I needed some guidance, it is now.' So, in the middle of the road, he took his tamborita and summoned his spirit animal to him. There was a flash of light and out of it appeared a ghostly blue creature."

A small smile spread on Mateo's lips. He had always loved the idea of having a chanul to help guide him, but without someone to teach him, he doubted he would ever make contact with such a powerful being. His sister had tried several times to summon such a spirit but had failed. Still, what his grandmother had told him earlier about his own magic gave him hope.

"The creature was made of pure light and ran around Alakazar like a dog or fox, or maybe even a ferret—I do not know; I had never seen it, personally." Rafa continued. His grandmother sat silently across the room, unusually having nothing to add to the story. Mateo made a note to ask her about it another time.

"The spirit demanded, 'Why have you summoned me?' as it sat in the air before Alakazar.

'Spirit, I have need of advice and information, if you would choose to assist me.' He asked. The people on the road kept a wide berth around the pair. It was not every day that a wizard summons a spirit in the middle of the road, after all. 'Do you know what the Eyes of Madria are? And perhaps where to find them?' The spirit looked thoughtful as it floated around him once more.

'No, I can't say that I do, but I know someone who might. Continue your search while I go ask around.' And with that, the blue spirit disappeared, leaving the space empty before him. Alakazar rubbed his hand over his face and through his short beard as he considered his plan of action."

Mateo opened his eyes as he felt a hand on his cheek to see his worried mother hovering over him.

"I'm awake, Mami."

"You better be."

"My head hurts less and belly is less… flippy, with my eyes closed." He tried to explain, but finding the right words were difficult. His mother looked at him for a beat longer before continuing with the story.

"As Alakazar stood on the side of the road, he heard the people passing complain loudly as they made their way to the palace.

'That man has no idea how to talk to people.' One woman said angrily.

'How he could be considered as the royal wizard is beyond me.' Said another.

'He put a hole in the wall of my house! The King will hear of this!' complained a third.

Alakazar did not listen long to their conversation, but he knew that Fiero was to blame for their anger. He could not wait for his chanul to return with answers; he would have to confront Fiero for his behavior. He hurried to the city, stopping passersby on the way in an effort to pinpoint Fiero's location. He was surprisingly easy to find, as he had left quite the path of destruction and bitterness in his wake. Alakazar helped set things right as he followed his rival—using magic to repair buildings and righting overturned carts. The people he helped thanked him and wished him well in the contest before he went on his way after Fiero. Eventually, he saw the other wizard as he lifted an old man out of his seat outside a shop. He could hear the anger in Fiero's voice even before he could hear the words he spoke. Alakazar was about to stop him when the spirit reappeared.

'I've got some information for you.' It said as Alakazar tried to look around it.

'Not now.' Alakazar replied, hell-bent on stopping Fiero, who had started to shake the old man. Alakazar raised his tamborita and sent a spell at Fiero that blew him into the wall of the shop behind him. The old man fell to the ground. Alakazar rushed to his side. He seemed unhurt, but was also unconscious.

'You fool!' Fiero spat at him. 'He was about to tell me where the Eyes were!' Alakazar turned on him with fire in his eyes and ice in his voice.

'You could have killed him!' he shouted at Fiero, his tamborita at the ready. 'No matter what, Fiero, we do not do this!' Fiero just laughed.

'Is that what you think? That they are better than us? We have the power, Alakazar, magic at our command. We could crush this city on a whim, yet you would hobble yourself for what? For them?' Alakazar backed into the square, away from the buildings, herding Fiero as he moved. The people in the streets scurried for the safety of their homes and shops." Rafa's voice grew quiet but with an intensity that underscored the drama of the events she was relaying. Mateo found the strength to sit up, suffering the dizziness and waves of nausea that washed over him as he did so. He was compelled by the story to listen more closely.

"The two wizards circled each other, their eyes locked in a battle of wills that could not be seen by those watching. Their tamboritas were both ready and the air hummed with energy demanding to be released. Fiero tried to goad Alakazar into action.

'It dawns on me, Alakazar, that I could remove one very large obstacle from my destiny right now.'

'And what is that?' Alakazar asked.

'You, of course. You have always stood in my way, ever since Master took you to his side. Well, now…' And Fiero cast a spell at him, but Alakazar was faster and his mind worked more quickly and so he was able to deflect the curse. As Fiero readied to attack again, a young woman walked purposefully between them. An older woman called after her to stop, terror in her voice as it echoed around the square. The two men watched this curious young woman, both of their eyes fixated on her as she turned toward them. She looked at them in turn, her eyes a piercing green that reflected the green of her dress.

'You will both leave here. One in glory, one in shame. But in the end, forgotten will be both of your names. One's defeat lies in the hands of the child of the other, but neither will perish this day.' She told them. She then walked just as calmly across the square, back to her weeping mother. It took a moment as he recovered himself, but Alakazar realized that he had seen her before, that it was her eyes he had felt cutting deep into his spirit at the palace. He started to say something as a blue flash of light brought his spirit animal to his side.

'Is now a good time?' it asked, circling around him. Alakazar looked from the girl to Fiero, who was equally stunned and lost in contemplation of the apparent prophecy they had been given.

'What did you learn?' He asked, watching his rival now, waiting for him to take action once more.

'The Eyes of Madria aren't an artifact at all. They are actual… eyes. Specifically, eyes of a person, usually girl, who has the gift of prophecy.'

'What?' Alakazar hissed as he looked from the spirit and back to the girl who was now trying to comfort her mother. He looked at Fiero, who had heard what the spirit had said. Fiero smirked at him before grabbing the girl and opening a gate back to the palace.

'No!' Alakazar cried out as the disappeared into the portal. He jumped after them just as the portal was closing."

Mateo looked at his grandmother who sat in her chair across the room, a rueful smile on her face, as his mother continued.

"And suddenly, he was back in the throne room, hot on the heels of Fiero and the girl. Fiero was already trying to explain to the King about the girl and her gift, recommending the girl be locked away and made to use her power for the benefit of the kingdom.

'Fiero!' Alakazar shouted across the cavernous room, drawing the attention of the king, his master, and his rival. 'You must answer for what you have done in the city as well as abducting this girl. And suggesting that she be held hostage? What kind of animal are you? She is a person, deserving of freedom as anyone, regardless of her gift.' The king looked from one wizard to the next, before settling on the girl.

'What is your name?' He asked her.

'Madria. I was named for my gift.' she answered, her voice small with fright.

'Is what they say true? Do you have the gift of foresight?' He asked.

'I do, Your Grace.'

'I see.' The king looked again from Fiero to Alakazar.

'And what would you have me do with her?' he asked as his gaze settled on the younger wizard.

'Let her live her life, Your Majesty, as any would want to be free to do. If you need her gift, ask her, but let her live her life.' The king sat back on his throne, contemplating the options for a long moment before speaking again.

'Alakazar, you mentioned that Fiero had done other things in the city. What were they?'

'Ugh, well, Your Grace, he destroyed the personal property of many citizens, knocked at least one man unconscious, and otherwise frightened the populace, threatening them during his search.' The king looked back at Fiero.

'Is this true?' he asked. Fiero's face grew red.

'Ah, well, Your Majesty, you see, I may have gotten a little… overzealous in my search…'

'And then you suggest I imprison an innocent young woman because she has the gift of prophecy? Fiero, how can I trust you with the magical health of my kingdom when you will not even concern yourself with the physical health of its people?' Fiero stared up at the king in shock as he continued. 'You have great skill, Fiero, but you do not have the temperament I need in a royal wizard. You may leave.' The king's voice held a sense of finality as he issued the command. Fiero began to sputter excuses, attempting to explain himself as the king signaled his guards to remove the outcast wizard. Fiero caught Alakazar's eye as he left.

'You think this is over? Oh, Alakazar, it is only beginning. I will return for my revenge, and we shall see who is the best when the dust and ashes of the city settle.' His voice was full of ice as he ripped open a portal and disappeared. The entire room was silent for a long moment. The only sound was the shuffling of the guards' feet as they tried to figure out what to do now.

'So, Alakazar, it seems that you have won my little challenge and that your heart is in the right place. You would honor me if you served as my royal wizard.' The king said, breaking the silence.

'I… I don't know what to say, Your Grace.' He looked up at the king, shock still evident on his face. The young woman, who had been left standing beside him leaned over and whispered.

'You say yes.' Alakazar turned quickly to her, and felt his heart jump as he truly saw her for the first time, a wry smile dancing on her lips and in her greenish eyes, her face perfectly framed by her dark hair. She nodded toward the king as if to say 'go on.' Alakazar turned back to the ruler on the dais and bowed slightly.

'It would be my honor to serve the kingdom when my master retires.'

'Excellent.' The king said, just as the sunlight passing through the throne room faded into twilight. 'But, if I may make a suggestion?'

'Of course, Your Grace.'

'First, you might want to walk young Madria home.' The king smiled at the pair as the young woman took Alakazar's arm and turned him toward the door."

"And that, Mateo, is how I met your grandfather." His grandmother chuckled from across the room.

Mateo smiled at his grandmother. He knew that she had stopped sharing specific prophecies since that day, but she continued to hint at his destiny for as long as he could remember. He mother never wanted to talk about it, but he knew that she knew more than she let on.

"How are you feeling, Mateo?" His mother sat next to him, now that her story was finished, and pushed his hair back from his face. "A little better?" He nodded as she felt his forehead, checking for a fever and looked at the bruising on his elbow. He winced as she touched the tender joint.

"I'll be fine, Mami. I'm just tired." He said, weariness filling his voice and seeping through his body.

"Sleep here tonight, so I can check on you." She said, standing, and letting him lay down. She covered him with the blanket as his eyes drifted shut.

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of liberties taken with this as we know so little about how the kingdom fared under Shuriki's rule. Tagging AU because I wrote this when the show first came out and haven't been following it much as of late. However, I do not think we've learned much more about Mateo's past from what I've seen.
> 
> While this is still unfinished, I am planning to get back to it soon.


End file.
